


For Every Truth

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-14
Updated: 2006-06-14
Packaged: 2018-09-03 20:30:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8729029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Post-Dead Man's Blood ficlet thingy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

For Every Truth

Post-Dead Man's Blood ficlet thingy. Thanks to [ ](http://esorlehcar.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://esorlehcar.livejournal.com/)**esorlehcar** for multiple betas on something less than a thousand words. That's a pal, man. *kiss*  
  
  
**Title** \- For Every Truth  
**Pairing** \- Sam/Dean  
**Rating** \- wincest  
**Spoilers** \- Dead Man's Blood  
  
  
  
  
**_For Every Truth_**  
  
  
"Did you know about the money?" Sam asks Dean, straight out.   
  
Dean's making notes in his journal. His left hand is curled around a bottle of beer and his right moves smoothly across the page. He doesn't even look up when he says, "What money?"  
  
Sam picks at the paper label on his bottle of beer. The bar is quiet, just after dinnertime, and Sam peels at the corner until the label rips and gets caught under his thumbnail. "Dad said he had had money," he says, staring at the table. "For us, for college."  
  
"Oh. That money." Sam looks up and sees Dean shrug. "I knew it'd been around once, yeah."  
  
"And you didn't ever think to _tell_ me about it?"   
  
Dean shrugs again. "I didn't know about it until after you'd left," he says. "And by that time I figured," he closes the journal and tosses his pen down. "I figured why bother? You'd already left. The money was gone." He leans back in his chair and takes a long pull from his beer. Sam huffs. Feels himself getting angry and doesn't understand why. "No real reason to bring it up," Dean finishes.   
  
"That's not the point, Dean." The edge of the table presses against Sam's chest when he leans forward. Sometimes when he talks to his brother it's like they speak two different languages. "The point is I never knew he'd ever even thought about college for us. I never knew-"  
  
"Dude, of course he'd thought about it." Dean's voice is hard and angry. "Do you think Mom and Dad ever thought that any of this would happen? Demons and ghost hunting and every other damn thing that's happened to our family?" Dean leans closer as he talks, until his face is just inches away from Sam's. When he sits back the legs of his barstool thump loudly against the floor. "You _don't_ think, Sammy, that's the thing. That's always been the thing with you around dad."  
  
Someone must have been at the jukebox, because before Sam can answer there's twangy country music rolling from the speakers. He looks down, picks at his beer bottle again. "He said he…"  
  
Dean leans back and crosses his arms over his chest. "Oh, god. What?"  
  
Sam looks up. Dean's watching him, really watching. "He said he didn't want me to leave because he was worried." Sam says, keeping his voice level. Dean nods. "That he didn't know, when I was by myself, if, I don't know. If something would happen. I guess I just didn't know-" Sam doesn't even finish before Dean's leaning forward again, cutting him off.   
  
He's looking at Sam, his eyes sharp and knowing, and Sam can't look down. It's like everything he's ever known has been stripped away. Like he's starting over right here, tonight, and fuck everything he's ever thought as truth.   
  
"Maybe there's a lot of things you don't know, Sam," Dean says quietly.   
  
*  
  
Later that night, Sam pushes Dean against the outside wall of the bar as a wet mist falls from the sky. He leans in close, buries his nose against his brother's neck, and feels Dean pushing at his shoulders, shoving him back, off, away.   
  
"Sammy. Fuck. What are you-"  
  
Sam shoves a knee between Dean's legs. Drags his teeth along the hard edge of Dean's jaw. His skin tastes like smoke and sweat and gunpowder. Sam leans in, lets his dick press against Dean's hip and feels his body jerk as he moans.   
  
"What the fuck are you doing?" Dean asks, his voice rough. Sam leans back. Dean's skin is flushed, his pupils blown wide and dark. He can feel Dean hard against his thigh. Every time he moves, Dean moves with him, whether he realizes he's doing it or not. Sam thinks that maybe that's just the way they are, the way they always were. Maybe he just never realized it until now.   
  
He tilts his head and touches his mouth to Dean's, and all he can hear over the sound of rain hitting the pavement and cars driving through the streets, is his name on Dean's lips. The way Dean gasps and moans as Sam moves against him.   
  
All he can feel is Dean finally giving in, finally just letting himself go, and when Dean digs his fingers into Sam's hips, when he drags him closer, shoves up against him from the wall, his body hot and hard and shaking under Sam's hands, Sam thinks that maybe this is what they're supposed to be. What they were _always_ supposed to be.   
  
"Dean?" Sam says. He makes it a question, his lips dragging against the stubble on Dean's cheek.   
  
Dean turns his head. Their lips brush together as he says "God, Sam. Yeah." It's the only truth Sam needs.   
  
  
  
-end-


End file.
